


Ad Infinitum

by Origami_Roses



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:02:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25677010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Origami_Roses/pseuds/Origami_Roses
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	1. The Point Between

There is a point between this world and the next - a threshold, if you will - where truths are found. Most come to the path, gain their truths and move on. Some linger long, others barely pause before they cross. A very few approach, linger and retreat. Even fewer remember the truths they have found.

\---------------

\---------------

Tony didn't know how long he'd been laying there. Warmth was but a theoretical concept. Time had ceased to have meaning. He'd been here before - this moment when mere survival an all-but-unattainable goal, a barely expressible wish. 

Ghosts of the past had come and gone. He'd come to terms with his failures and losses all over again, the old and the new. Not entirely, no. The chill of winter numbing his very soul had helped, perhaps, but he no longer felt the burn of betrayal and loss. Even such false warmth as that had fled, leaving the empty chill of a moonless winter night behind. 

A new figure swam into being before his hazy vision - yet another ghost, perhaps. Another memory to lay to rest. Pale face framed by dark hair. Green eyes that were familiar... yet not. 

"...Loki? Thor said you're dead. Again, apparently. I'm flattered you'd stop by. I guess it makes sense, though. I'm all but dead, too, so why not, right? Is it your turn to offer me a drink, Reindeer Games.?" He wasn't sure whether his voice actually made any sound or it was all in his head. He wasn't sure it mattered, either. 

The figure cocked its head. "Oh, Anthony. You've forgotten me again. We've met so many times - so many times you've approached the door to my domain only to step back, to be pulled back." The voice was warm and fond... and unmistakably feminine. Not Loki. 

"I cannot fully release you this time, my Anthony. The time grows near - I can feel the walls of my prison thinning and I shall require payment for services rendered - my Merchant of Death." 

Deeply buried memory returned. Hela had greeted, healed and released him back to life several times - a kidnapping gone wrong, Howard's temper, childhood lab accidents, alcohol poisoning, drug overdose, Afghanistan, Palladium poisoning, Obadiah, New York, Ultron. Now Siberia. 

Gold and green swirled around Tony, releasing him from the prison of his broken suit, warming him and healing much of his frostbite and the worst of the damage to his chest. The bitter cold air no longer froze blood bubbling in his lungs and the sheer relief of being able to _breathe_ was incredible. He could feel his fingers grip the rough edges of damaged metal, and see clearly again. He was still battered, bruised, in pain and stiff from lying in the cold, but no longer completely broken. He carefully rolled to his knees and bowed his head before her. "Yes, my Queen." 

She smiled. "I will grant you this chance for justice, or for vengeance, against those who wronged you. There is power in this place - power that allowed your enemy to cut you to the heart with truths once buried, maintained those who long slept here, opened the door to this silo whence your prey sought egress, and lit their path in and out - use that to send for aid, use the materials here to survive and escape.  
"You cannot fully return to life this time, my Anthony, though you shall return to your life. You will remain at this threshold, holding this door open. It will take a small part of your life energy, but I swear it will not harm you, and will allow you to remember and to hear me. You will do my bidding, but fear not - our goals are more closely aligned than you yet understand, for the balance of Life and Death is in jeopardy. And as with each time you have come before me, answers and inspiration will be given as you seek them.  
"Build me your best weapons, my Merchant. Many have lusted for the power you create and sought to control you to get it. I now command you: rebuild your arsenal, and win your freedom when the threat you have seen comes, for it will come. For now, you have time. Rest. Heal. Restore your suit to functionality, but retain the visible damage. You will wear it when I call for your service. For now, that is enough. " 

He met her eyes as the form before him shimmered and began to fade. "I cannot hold my seeming here longer. Fare you well, my Anthony. We will speak anon."


	2. The Other Side

He was cold. Somehow that surprised him, though he did not know why. He hadn't known warmth for... far too long. Long enough that he could barely remember having known it at all.

Perhaps it was that physical cold didn't normally bother him. Maybe that's why he was surprised. It had always been that way, to some degree, though he hadn't known why. Not for... far too long. 

This cold was different, somehow. Different but familiar. 

Green swirled at the edge of his vision, and he found himself sitting up to face... himself. 

Memories returned - The Aether, Thor's mortal, the Kursed, the fight, ... his death. 

No. Not himself, but his not-sister/ mentor/ guardian... What do you call a personification of Death who watches out for you? Who claims to have been once almost-related to you. Who refuses to let you die. _(and how he'd hated her for that while under Thanos' thumb)_

She smiled at him through the swirling dust of the barren planet. "My favorite Trickster. We meet again." 

"Queen Hela." He sketched a shallow bow in her direction. "I can't say it's a pleasure. Though I am in considerably less pain than most of our recent meetings." 

She smiled, apparently in genuine delight. "You are a survivor, Loki. It will not be long now that I will stand aside for you, I promise. Odin weakens and the walls of my prison waver. Would you care to help give him a little push? You have the chance to play a grand trick on all of Asgard, if you are willing." Her smile sharpened into one of wicked delight. 

How could he help but to mirror it? "Tell me more."

\---------------

\---------------

It had gone smoothly. Hela had Healed him and given him extra strength before he slipped back to Asgard. Odin had been taken by surprise, and his powers bound as he had once bound Thor's and an amnesiac old man had been found wandering downtown Helsinki the next day. _(Loki made sure not to send him within SHIELD's grasp. Too much chance of someone putting pieces together. To much chance of Thor finding out.)_ He couldn't kill the old man outright - the magic of Asgard would react and there were things to set in place before that happened. Having been once declared Regent gave Loki the access to Asgard's magic to do so. _(How convenient)_ Besides, it seemed fitting to let Odin waste away in a shadow existence, not knowing who or what he was. Poetic justice, in a way, for Loki's life. 

Loki wasn't sure he actually liked ruling Asgard - at least, not as Odin - but Hela had been right. It was a once in a lifetime chance to fool all of Asgard, and Thor as well. It had been interesting to hear Thor's account to 'Odin' of their fight on Svartalfheim. He'd even dared to admit to breaking Loki out of prison, though he downplayed Loki's aid as usual. Loki decided an appropriate punishment for breaking the law _(for refusing to give him his due)_ was putting Thor through an accelerated course of Inter-Realm diplomacy. He'd only have a few years at most to absorb the lessons, rather than the centuries he could have had. _(That he'd wasted - the overbearing oaf)_

That he couldn't stand to spend much time around his not-brother, and was thus spared his unwelcome company was only a bonus.


	3. The Work Ahead

Tony had time to think as he waited for rescue. He had cannibalized his suit and the cryopods, making good use of the cooling systems' components to build a small space heater in addition to the distress beacon. It wasn't much, but it was enough. This supposedly abandoned base still had electricity, and he hoped it didn't mean HYDRA would arrive before the rescue team did. At least it gave him a means to power his heater. 

Despite his still-extensive injuries, he'd taken out as much as he could of the surveillance systems, too, and packed everything - along with that damned shield and the discarded arm - into the Iron Man suit. He'd sort it out later. He hadn't been able to bring FRIDAY back online via the suit, so he'd wait until he was back home to see how much and what sorts of data had been left at the base. There was undoubtedly more he hadn't found, being injured and unwilling to stray far from his weapons and source of heat. Just in case. 

As usual, Hela had given him just enough to survive with minimal ill effects to himself, but plenty of evidence for himself and others to learn from. There was a reason Howard had only killed him once - and that accidentally. They'd both learned from that. Correction: they'd all learned from that. Jarvis and Maria had also been involved, he now remembered. It was a bit overwhelming, having all these newly uncovered memories in his head - and just after he'd spent hours coming to terms with all the memories he'd not forgotten no less. 

At least he thought it had been hours. Time always went weird when he was dying. It stretched and compressed in ways even being drunk or high didn't manage. (He should know. He'd been in all three states more than once.) Finished with what he could do for now, he resumed the process of laying old memories to rest and coming to grips with what it all meant. The new-old memories put many things into a different light and the change in perspective was ...overwhelming. Tantalizing. Inspiring. Things he didn't know he knew suddenly answered so many questions he'd forgotten to ask and opened new avenues of inquiry to explore. He'd get to them. After he followed his Queen's command: Heal, rebuild, prepare. He could do that. She'd promised he had time. 

Time passed slowly and he found himself slumped against a wall - chilly despite his heater - and gradually losing track of what was real. He was ... tired. That seemed like the best word. 

\---------------

\---------------

Semi-conscious as he was, he'd nearly shot the first of his rescuers to come through the door. Vision being with them had helped. The android was distinct and his presence had convinced Tony that these were, indeed, people here to help him.

Tony faded in and out as he was checked over, warmed, bandaged and put on an IV for the flight home. They'd deemed him stable enough to be taken directly back to New York. The Stark Tower Medical staff had been put on alert, and he wouldn't be getting out of there quickly... but he'd be _home_. 

The flight back was long, though he didn't remember all that much of it. In his lucid periods, he'd gotten Vision to contact FRIDAY and Pepper (so they wouldn't worry too much), gotten FRIDAY started on tracking the quinjet Rogers had stolen at Leipzig (since it hadn't been left at the bunker), been given an update on Rhodey (no improvement), learned that T'Challa had turned Zemo over to UN-sanctioned authorities _(he'd be following up on that)_ , and got the Accords Council to take a close look at Thaddeus Ross' abuses of his position. He'd also made sure they brought the disabled suit and all it contained. (Vision's strength was needed for that job.) 

\---------------

\---------------

It had been thirteen hours seven minutes and forty-three seconds from the time FRIDAY lost contact with the suit until she had picked up his distress signal, a further four hours fifty-two minutes and seventeen seconds for rescue to reach him, and would take an estimated nine hours twenty-three minutes more for him to arrive home. Far too much time she'd been left fretting and worrying, planning and plotting. FRIDAY knew she did not have the experience or breadth of connections her predecessor had had, but she had enough. As soon as Boss had given her the go-ahead via Vision, she'd been stretching her processors to find those who had hurt her creator and left her alone - far too alone - to stew in her plans for retribution. _(Oh, did she have plans.)_ It took surprisingly little time to find some answers. The only question she needed answered now was what to do with the answers she'd found. 

She was just waiting for her chance to talk to Boss privately about it, but the wait wasn't nearly as fraught with tension now that she _knew_ she would get that chance. She tracked the jet's progress home, and pinged Vision repeatedly for updates. She monitored the rescuers and doctors who moved Boss' unconscious form from the jet to proper medical facilities. She watched and listened and recorded and double checked every single thing they did, every single thing they used. No one was going to hurt Boss again - not on her watch. 

\---------------

\---------------

As he returned to life, he was repeatedly told how very lucky he was. The doctors were surprised how well he had come through his ordeal. He had lots of damage, but even all added together it wasn't life threatening - a broken arm, fractured ankle, several cracked ribs, a partially collapsed lung, minor frostbite on feet, fingers and nose in addition to significant bruising and assorted cuts and scrapes. He had lost some skin to the frostbite, and it would be a few weeks before his hands healed enough for long periods of work. But he hadn't lost any fingers. Hadn't even suffered noticeable nerve damage. Which, given the time spent literally freezing before Hela helped him, left him wondering just how much she had Healed him. He knew the damage to his chest, at least, had been much, _much_ worse, and suspected that without her intervention he may have been left unable to work at all, had he survived. 

His mind was also much clearer, and he found that he could not fathom why he had put up with being treated so poorly by the Rogues when he literally held all the cards in his hand. They had depended entirely upon his money, his tech, his connections, his legal and PR teams. And yet he had somehow allowed himself to be completely sidelined, ignored and blamed for everything. After a brief time considering that revelation, he had FRIDAY cancel all their credit cards and remove all access to any of his or SI's resources and properties. 

Surprisingly... or not... FRIDAY had uncovered five different personas Romanov had set up using his bank accounts to seed them. One of which was in active use. He promptly filed fraud alerts and let the Accords Council know he'd found a lead on her, and that the sooner they got Ross completely out of the picture, the sooner he'd give them information. Russia and Germany were more than happy to head up the efforts to pressure the US into revoking Ross's status, and several other countries soon joined them. Tony happily played up his invalid status to avoid being dragged in while quietly feeding them information about _all_ Ross's minor indiscretions and major crimes. 

He decided to give T'Challa a chance to come clean about his part in the matter. He'd give him a week or so after Ross was ousted - it was entirely possible the young king was withholding information on Rogers for the same reason Tony was on Romanov. He'd give the man a chance. But only one.


	4. Chapter 4

Loki lounged in Odin's form, watching the opening production of his newest play with a critical eye. He could hardly believe Asgard was not openly questioning "Odin" lauding Loki as a hero and immortalizing him - phrased as 'making amends for past wrongs' or not. Had anyone known it was in fact Loki behind this, it would have appeared as self-indulgent, self-laudatory nonsense. Had he not consulted Hela beforehand, it might indeed have become a vehicle of self-aggrandizement. But now? Now, as with nearly everything he did, it served multiple purposes.

Asgard had too long disregarded mages. It was all too probable that successfully facing Thanos would require the combined might of the Realms, and Alfheim and Vanaheim, at the least, considered seidr wielders a valuable part of their military forces. Indeed, their few generals who were not mages themselves were required to take training specifically on how best to utilize and support their mages' talents. And as it stood, Asgardians would refuse to follow any orders issued by such a general out of their deep disapprobation toward magic and all things connected to it. 

Hence the plays - education disguised as entertainment for the masses. 

When he'd put forward the idea in one of their many discussions, Hela had chuckled and asked just one question: "You could lay a decent foundation for acceptance, and use it to your advantage, but do you truly WISH to rule Asgard? You certainly would be capable of it, and if that is what you truly desire, you shall have it as your just reward when the coming battle is ended." 

No, Loki had realized, he really didn't. He had long wanted to be acknowledged as Thor's equal - as CAPABLE of ruling, but it had been centuries since he had truly WANTED the burden of the crown. He had been furious at being constantly sidelined and ignored, utterly terrified at the prospect of THOR on the throne - what a disaster that would have been. Had there been any chance of Thor actually listening to him - considering, if not taking his advice, respecting his abilities and knowledge - he would have willingly been an advisor. 

But King? No. Particularly not after having even this brief taste of ruling. His inevitable discontent with the dull minutiae of bureaucracy would be less disastrous than Thor's temper-driven rashness, but that's all he could honestly say in his favor. For all the wrongs done to him by Asgard's ruling classes and warriors, Loki had no grudge against the vast majority of the common people. _(well, maybe a few of the merchants...)_ They should not have to suffer for his boredom. 

What he truly wanted was _freedom_. Freedom from the insuperable expectations of others, from the stifling disapproval and mocking jeers of those who did not understand or value him and refused to even try. Freedom to live in peace, to study, to work, to _play_. Freedom to be only Loki.

But for now, he bore the burden of the throne, of gently herding recalcitrant, headstrong, prideful fools along a new path.

This was the third play he had sponsored, and the first to include Odin's feats of magic as well, reminding the people and warriors that they had long had a king capable of magic, though they had ignored that fact for millennia. _(and given Odin's long reign, just when, exactly had it become a mark of shame for a male to use magic?)_ Loki had put scholars to looking for stories of battles fought with mages as part of the forces, and any record of Odin's daughter - Hela, now somehow an aspect of Death Incarnate, had been erased from Asgard's histories. Presumably by Odin himself, if what little had been found was accurate. It was a fine line to walk. Masquerading as Odin while having others search out Odin's history meant dodging the occasional question that he _could not answer_. Hela's input had been invaluable, but even she could only speculate on some of Odin's motivations... and not all of what she could answer would be wise to spread at this time.

The first play had been much easier to pull off - a series of tales based on the TRUTH of the ridiculous adventures he'd been dragged on by Thor and his posse. It had both illustrated the usefulness of magic in a fight AND redeemed Loki's reputation enough that when he eventually stepped in as himself he just might BE LISTENED TO about strategy ... as Thor and his idiots never had. The chance at tearing down their self-propagated reputations was just a bonus in his eyes.

Most of the common folk took to the plays readily - they had no particular issue with magic, associating it with the temple Sanctuaries and Healing Halls. Loki became more and more aware that it was chiefly the warrior class - those who would be forced to admit their own lack if faced with a foe they could not simply beat into the ground - who insisted magic was a dirty, shameful _hobby_ , unworthy of laud. ...unless it was being used for their express benefit by those who acknowledged the warriors' supremacy. _(yeah... Loki had always had a problem with the last part of that... Use his powers to benefit someone else? Look no further than the continued survival of his idiot brother's idiot friends. Bow his head and expose his neck to them...? Only under extreme duress, in open mockery with a dagger in his hand.)_

The plays weren't the only arrow in his quiver, of course. The scholars had been rewarded handsomely for their work in the dusty archives, and - as Aesir were wont to do - went to celebrate in the usual ways. Fortunately, a few of the scholars took the oblique hints he'd dropped as to what they were to do with the stories they uncovered. Warriors would boast of their own deeds, and craftsmen of their own works; scholars would boast of the deeds and works of others. His scholars were cheerfully improving the reputation of seidr users by telling the tales in taverns for entertainment, and also actively participating in discussions of the plays - confirming their accuracy and expanding on parts that had been glossed over in the name of artistry. 

Fortunately, the warriors all loved a good battle story, and wouldn't dare object to someone telling tales of Odin's past glories or Thor's youthful adventures - magic included or not. (At least, not after ~~Loki~~ _Odin_ had stripped the first to do so of his rank for it.) Tales of the Valkyries had also mostly been forgotten, and were slowly being revived. It would do no harm to remind everyone that women could also be fierce fighters, and had once been proudly included in Asgard's elite forces. (Loki had never objected to Sif's passion for battle because she was female... it had been _entirely_ personal. Mostly because Sif, herself, had made it so.) It took very little time for the skalds to pick up on trend and carry it from there. 

\---------------

\---------------

It helped Loki to play his role as Odin by thinking of it all as yet another play, and this first act was going nicely. 

Thor's friends had been separated - either scattered in various tasks and missions of their own, or retired to family life. In any case, they were not making trouble, and that was sufficient. 

Loki occasionally looked in on Thor's diplomatic education on Vanaheim. It was ...progressing... in it's own fashion. It seemed he'd learned at least a modicum of restraint from his mortal friends, though tact was still an untenable hope. At least he hadn't managed to anger a long-friendly Realm into declaring war. _(That would have been an impressive feat, but detrimental. It was a good measure of Loki's doubt in Thor that he was actually mildly surprised.)_

Hela was still playing a waiting game; time was not yet running out. More changes were coming to Asgard, and more comprehensive preparations needed to be made: the stage would soon be set for the second act, and thence the finale. 

And then he would be free.


End file.
